Red Hook, Brooklyn today…

Sitting at the water’s edge, it is a noisy world. Everywhere there are sounds. A helicopter churns overhead as a cruiser rushing past. The ferry streams by and somewhere in Red Hook there is a fire. I hear the siren. Two guys behind me, talking trash about their jobs. In the distance a fog horn sounds. A girl on her cellphone passes and I know her whole story. Above gulls squawk. And there’s a clanging that never stops. It must be from the hooks and chains that hold the boats in their moorings, but it echoes across the harbor like bells, like a call to prayer.